And So Rose Lord Malfoy
by unknown street kid
Summary: Um... harry's kissing draco, draco's defeating the dark lord? What's going on in this crazy F***ed up world??? rated R for language. little slash, but just read. everything is not as it seems
1. Default Chapter

A/N: I have _no_ idea where this came from, so… yeah. Um… don't flame. Or do. I don't really give a shit. Your opinion, right? Um… I think I should say that I know the greatest guy in the world and yet I feel NOTHING toward him. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME????

Um… anywayz…

R/R!!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own it. 

CHAPTER ONE

            _"I hate everything about you. Why do I love you?" Three Days Grace, I Hate Everything About You._

            Weaken, but do not be weak. Strengthen, but do not allow others to be strong. Break, but do not be broken. 

            It was somewhat of a family motto. Total unadulterated shit, if you asked him. Those dull words had been drilled into his head all his life. Probably even before. Now Draco Malfoy stood in a circle of Death Eaters facing the Dark Lord. Eaters of Death. Lord of Darkness. Who came up with such fucking melodramatic names anyway? Eating death can in _no possible way_ be healthy for you.  

            The Dark Lord moved forward to remove Draco's hood, which covered his eyes in the darkened field. The moon was the only source of light. The sickly pale brightness drenched the land in a cold, callous light, casting shadows but allowing no true sight. 

            With Voldemort less than three paces away from his face,  arms (if you could call the bones with grotesque coverings arms) outstretched and Lucius less than five faces behind him; there was no where to turn. The worst part of it was that Draco was positively giddy. The seriousness of the situation was making his body quake and eyes water with suppressed laughter. His family being complete hypocrites worsened the situation. Here were men who presumably served one Dark Lord or another, speaking of standing strong and showing any weaknesses. Wasn't he by offering his unquestioning loyalty to someone, weakening himself? He was also being broken, forced to bend down to a servant's level­­—all in one fucking meaningless gesture.

            No.

            This was not the time to be thinking of such things, not at all. But then again (the Dark Lord was now reciting the Rites of Induction as he pushed up Draco's sleeve) why shouldn't he speak his mind?

            Draco was greatly confused at his own confusion. It was all Potter's fault. It was his fucking fault that he had this terrible ach in the back of his head and a newly developed schism in his thoughts.

            Damn him! After this was over, he was going to make him pay.

            He felt the first pang of heat as Voldemort began to carve that disgustingly horrid tattoo in his perfectly sculpted forearm. Immediately, he pulled his arm away—not jerked, but pulled. 

            "You know what, Voldie? I don't think I really want to join your pathetic little club here. Why don't you kill—" he turned, searching for Severus Snape's head, only to get the Crutacius Curse cast on him as he did.

            _Why the fuck did I turn? What could have possibly possessed me to turn?_

_            I blame it on your insatiable love for Snape._

_            Shut up, I'm supposedly being tortured here._

_            Oh, right._

"You know what Voldie? Fuck you! Get this damned thing off me!" But Draco wasn't really feeling any pain. Nothing this night had been impromptu. It just wasn't his nature. Just as being a follower wasn't in his nature. A Protection Charm, a _powerful protection charm, had been cast on him by one of __his newfound followers. "Or better yet," he said, rising and blowing the charade. "Why don't I just do it for you?"  
            Voldemort had been caught off guard. Draco's 'Army' moved from their positions, stunning the Death Eaters. At the same time, Draco lifted his wand to Voldemort's chest._

            "Fare ye well, old man. _AVADA KEDVARA!_" A jet of green light flew from the tip of his wand, instantly killing the man once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle. 

            The battle was still going on as he walked to the edge of the field. Draco looked up at the glowing moon and uttered the words he had wanted to say for six years. "I've beaten you, Potter."

            All around the globe, the sound of maniacal laughter—Draco's maniacal laughter—was heard. For the briefest of moments everything stopped. Later, people (especially the elderly men) would swear that the Earth stopped spinning on its axis. All was quiet, the calm before the storm. Time began once more, after that brief second. No one seemed to notice, except the children who began screaming. It was they who would later tell of the Day Everything Stopped.

            But Draco was not concerned with this. He didn't hear anything around him. All he heard or saw was the moon, which he grinned at. As he did so, he pulled a lighter from his pocket. It was made of pure silver, a small serpent engraved on the lid. Still grinning, he flipped the top and depressed the trigger. A small flame sprouted. The miniature fire danced before his eyes and within his eyes, only adding to Draco's look of madness. He dropped the lighter—magically charmed not to go out until bidden—on to the gasoline soaked field.

            The grass erupted into to a giant ball of fire, surprisingly looking akin to a serpent. 

            He walked away, the screams of those caught in the flames ringing in his ears.

***

_One week ago:_

            Draco was sitting in the library. Although Snape did favor Slytherin house, he did not exactly skimp on giving out homework. Draco didn't mind, though, Potions were his favorite subject, after all. Currently, Draco was researching the uses of Pure Black Roses in potion making, a somewhat… special... assignment to those in Slytherin.

_            "The true black rose is extremely rare. Some in the non-magical world refuse to acknowledge its existence, due to the extreme rarity. However, the black rose does, in fact exist. It is used for many reasons, the most potent, and illegal; use is in that of love potions." _Very interesting….

            "Looking for more ways to become a Death Eater, Malfoy?" Potter was standing right behind him, reading over his shoulder.

            "What the fuck do you want?"

            "Tut tut tut, watch the language." Draco turned in his seat to face the incessant pest, only to find a mischievous grin on his face. 

            "Maybe I should rephrase that. If you don't have something worth while for me to hear, then get the fuck away from me. Maybe you can go buy Ron a whore or something. God knows he won't get any otherwise." _That'll get him._ He thought, but nothing—no reaction at all.

            "Stand up Malfoy."

            "No."  
            "Fine, I'll do it with you sitting down."

            The next thing he knew, Potter was kissing him. Draco's first reaction was to push the other boy away, but by then Harry's strong seeker arms were around him, pulling Draco closer. His only defense at this outrageous violation of his personal space was to stiffen and shift his eyes from side to side. It was disgusting. Now Potter's tongue was licking Draco's lips, wanting to taste his mouth. When Draco continued to refuse, Harry finally pulled away. 

            "WHAT IN BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR YOU SODDING BASTARD MOTHER—"

            "Shh, that's enough Draco." 

            And he was gone.

            Draco tried to go back to his work, but he just couldn't concentrate. Every time the word love came up in the document, Draco's subconscious kept bringing back the feel of Harry's lips on his. 

            Frustrated, he slammed the book shut, returned it to the Restricted Section, and went to bed. 

            Sleep, however, did not bring relief of Potter. His dreams continually dwelled on being pulled closer and closer to Harry's lean, muscular body. In the dreams Draco did not resist the probing tongue. 

            At two a.m., Draco finally woke from these terrorizing and traumatizing dreams. 

            _Shit. I'm falling apart here. _

_            Yes. You are._

_            Shut up._

_            As you wish._

            His mind was no longer a sanctuary, hadn't been in quite some time. Not just because of Potter, no. Draco was used to having other boys in love with him, so that was only the tip of the ice burg. Lucius had been pressuring him for a while now about getting the Dark Mark. It wasn't that he didn't want to support evil; he was mainly reluctant because of his personality. He was a leader, one to be revered; definitely not one to be led. This unnerved him for some reason.

            Draco had been planning a revolt for quite a while. It would take place on the night of his initiation. And best of all, no one would survive to lay the blame on him. 

            But right now, it was three a.m., and he needed some hot coca. Dressing in his night robe, he climbed the stairs and tickled the pair. Four kitchen elves, headed by Dobby, came rushing forward.

            "How can we help you, Draco sir?" his old house elf said.

            "Oh, just a cup of hot coca please… and Dobby?"

            "Yes sir?" Dobby said.

            "Stop calling me sir. I'm not your master any more."

            "Yes, Mister Draco." With that, the old elf scuttled off. Another pair of elves brought his coca and seated him on a sofa before the fire.

            He sipped the drink in a thoughtful silence. He barely registered the fact that Harry had entered the kitchens and was now coming toward the couch with a mug of his own. 

            "Mind if I sit?" Harry asked.

            "No, not at all, I was just leaving." Draco stood to leave, but Harry placed a hand on his arm.

            "I need to explain to you." Draco thought this over carefully before he answered.

            "You've got one minute."

            Harry explained. He had been thinking in the library of how for six years they had been enemies. There was just no question about it. But, on Harry's side at least, there was something beneath the hostility. Every relationship he had been having was ruined because of Draco. Nothing active, but…. It was as if Draco was a permanent occupant in his mind. Something that was just there, he couldn't really concentrate on anything else, because there was this intruder in his mind. The equivalent would be someone reading. Someone else comes in the room. The person reading knows the other person is there; call it E.S.P. or just really good ears, but all of a sudden the person reading devotes all their attention to listening to the newcomer. Waiting, feeling them out, seeing what their going to do. And at the end, the person is really not there and no reading got done. 

            "Well, I guess that's all." Harry concluded.

            "Alright. You're in love with me, I still hate you. Now, good evening… or morning, I should say." He stood and returned to the dungeons. 

            There were a few more close encounters with Harry, but Draco bushed them off, all the while slowly gaining an unwanted visitor in his mind as well. He only talked to her a few times; mostly to mock her, but it was enough to split his mind in two. The girl he thought shy and meek was hiding something. He knew it. 

            He kept thinking of the day in the library. Potter hadn't been wearing his glasses. Not in the library or the kitchens. That was a very curious thing, very curious indeed. But his thoughts grace fully did not dwell on Potter, having been sidetracked by who he had come to call 'the intruder'. 

            This new intruder was the reason he Owled his father, arranging to join the Death Eaters on the first break of winter break, the reason why he chose not to be led, the reason he decided to put an end to Voldemort. 

            Ginny Weasley.            

***

            Blaise Zabini walked out of the shadows, greeting Draco at the edge of the field. 

            "So, what do we do now?" she asked her pyromaniac friend.

            "Does coffee sound good, you?" he answered his gasoline field soaking friend.

            "Just fine."

            Blaise laced her hand in Draco's as they walked to Third and Eighty-Fourth Street, to the little Coffee Shoppe at the corner. Behind them, the fire blazed on and the screams grew louder before stopping altogether. 


	2. a field of flames

A/N: okay, sorry about the long wait. I just started school and had absolutely no time to work on this. I finally decided to use my French class to catch up. Also, sorry this is really short. I wanted to post something, so its only about two and a half pages. Okay. I guess I need a quote…. *goes gets warped tour album*

_"Try all you want, nothing's getting solved… false hope."_– The Unseen, False Hope

_"Sniffing glue, drinking beer, don't give a fuck how the hippies feel."_– The Casualties, Made in NYC 

CHAPTER TWO:

            Ginny Weasley was at the Burrow, which, at the moment, was gracefully peaceful. There was no sound from the ghost in the attic, and all the various components that made up her family were off doing their separate things. And she was alone.

            Sometimes it is nice to be alone a relief from the sound, the raucous impolite behaviors of others. But like love, hate, and almost every other thing that could be conceived by man, it was a double edged dagger—to be alone is to be left with one's self, to be stripped of others' faults, but to be left with your own. In a sense, to be left with you own raucous impolite behaviors. 

            Winter break had started two days ago. The last five days of school were rather eventful. In that short period she had kissed her latest distraction twice, both disguised as Harry, confused Harry more than anyone else she had set out to manipulate, and succeeded in catching Draco's attention. She thought back to before winter break. 

*One Week Ago*

            "I can't believe you went through with it, Ginny. I could never have done it." Lillian was laughing on the bunk across from her. Ginny couldn't believe she had done it either.

            "Well, we spent a month making the Polyjuice Potion; it would have been a shame not to have gone through with it."

            "And twice, none the less! How did you come up with such a corny explanation?" This time Christine spoke up.

            Ginny kept up all the pretenses that the kiss had meant nothing to her. Anyways, it wasn't her Draco was kissing. Or being kissed by, that was. She went along with all their meaningless inquiries, never the less. They weren't really interested in what she did, just what he did. This was for her. Not for them. Harry needed to pay… and what better way could she get back at him other than making out with his worst enemy?

            "What are you going to do now, Ginny?" Lillian. 

            "I think I'm going to go fill the Wonder Boy in on what happened." Laughter met her words as she left to the Common Room. She found Harry on the couch, staring into the fire. 

            Making sure she was somewhat presentable, she sat beside him. Despite the fact that he was scum, she still thought he was hot. His green eyes and black hair made him look fabulous and his body was amazing. She knew. She was in it.

            "Hi Harry." He turned his head to face her.

            "Oh, hi Ginny." 

            "So, how are you today?"

            "Terrible."

            "I heard what happened."

            "Oh."

            "Are we sticking to one syllable answers?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. A sardonic, desperate laugh.

            "Sorry. I just… everyone says they saw me… you know… k-k-kiss him." A shudder ran through his body. He so fucking deserves it. She thought. "But the truth is that I don't remember anything that happened yesterday." He rubbed one hand against the side of his cheek.

            Ginny tried as hard as she could to keep a straight face "What's the last thing you do remember?" 

            "The last thing I remember…. That would be Quidditch practice, night before last."

            "Damn."

            "Yeah."            

            "Were you alone with anyone after practice?" Ah, here came the fun part. Harry was blushing. 

            "Um… I, uh… yeah, I kind of was."

            "Well, who was it? Do you trust him?" This was priceless. Harry's face was redder than a beet.

            "It, uh, it wasn't a guy. It was…" He coughed something that surprisingly sounded like Cho Chang. 

            "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that." She said dryly.

            "Cho Chang."

            "Oh, do you trust her?" 

            "Why do you ask?"

            "Do you think it was possible that she… maybe… hexed you?" Harry looked deeply into Ginny's velvety brown eyes. Ginny fathomed that she could actually _see_ Harry thinking. Plausible and implausible explanations alike running through his head. What he didn't know was that Cho _did_ hex him. She was in on this too.

            "No. I'd trust Cho with my life."

            "Well, if I find anything out I'll let you know."

            "Thanks a lot, Ginny."

            "No problem." _Trusting, self-righteous prick._ A smile came to her lips as she turned and exited the common room, emerald green robes swirling at her feet. 

  And it had been as easy as that. Not as manipulative as she would have liked, but it still felt good knowing something that he did not. Knowledge was the ultimate weapon.

            She didn't notice that she had been standing still in the middle of the corridor until someone, rather, Draco Malfoy, walked straight into her. He lost balance and fell onto the floor. For nearly two minutes, their eyes were locked. 

            "Watch where you stand Weasley."

            And that was it. 

            He got up and continued on his way. 

            Just before he was about to turn the corner, he spared one look back. And then she fell… hard. Before it was a game, not even that. A slight distraction from her miserably pitiful existence. But from that moment on, all she could think about was Draco. She found herself purposefully allowing him to insult her, to push her, just to hear his voice or feel his hands. When she was near Draco, it took all of her will to keep from brushing her hand against his arm. 

            Winter break was an escape. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Isn't that what Shakespeare said? She couldn't stand to be around him, let alone be away from him. 

            She knew that it would probably never amount to anything. She was an insignificant blip after all. He thought of her as less than dirt, and would spare but few words for her. Break was an end to that. Virginia's lust was slightly dulled. Draco was miles away—there was no possible way for her to reach out and touch him. Being so near, like in school, was torture. Her heart shattered with each stolen glance, each longing touch, infinitely short touch.

            But he didn't notice.

            No one else noticed.

            After all… it had only been a week.

***

            Virginia snapped out of her memories when she heard someone pounding on her door. She rose to answer it, but before she could, the Dream Team was already in her room. 

            "What is it?" She asked nervously, noticing their strange faces.

            "Draco's just defeated Voldemort." They spoke in unison


End file.
